Done for another day

The lack of updates on this blog in my post-baby world is indicative of the fact that I don't seem to have much time for anything these days between Ryder, Zdenek, work, and home. My runs are getting shorter and shorter as I find myself busier and increasingly stretched (and I don't mean the ability to touch my toes). A "long" run these days is typically six miles, though on occasion I've been thrilled to fit in about eight. Mid-week runs average about four miles. I went from 40-mile-weeks during pregnancy (and even the odd 40-mile-week when I had my mom available for round-the-clock babysitting), to 20-30 mile-weeks today (though it's on the low end).

On Saturday, my long run consisted of pushing Ryder in the Chariot alongside Zdenek, and having to cut things short at 5.5 miles because Ryder, frankly, had had enough. No worries -- it was hot and sticky out, and I figured I'd get a longer run in on Sunday morning. But after one too many glasses of wine on Saturday night, I found myself exhausted, mildly hungover, and very sleep-deprived on Sunday morning. Running was the last thing I wanted to do that day, so I opted instead for a delicious breakfast, a more delicious lunch, and a heavy, carb-filled pasta dinner.

And all of this got me thinking, Maybe my running days are slowly winding down. I'm in a perpetual state of fatigue and always feeling crunched for time. Spending a few more hours relaxing with my family or just lazing around with the Sunday Times is far more enjoyable, no? Do I have the energy, excitement, and time for anything more than the occasional three miles these days? As I crawled into bed last night, I had almost resigned myself to the label of "former runner," at least until life slows down a bit (and goodness knows it will probably be years before that happens).

But perhaps it was the fully carbo-loaded feeling in my belly that encouraged me, or perhaps it was just the anxiousness of facing another busy week ahead on this Monday morning. Whatever the source of my motivation, today I forced myself to hand Ryder over to his nanny, tie up my laces, and try for a few miles. A few turned into three, then four -- and when I realized I was about to run 5.5, I decided to just complete the whole Central Park loop. I returned home to find the boy still napping, and so quickly ran an ice-cold shower before he had time to wake up. And as I was heading to rinse off, my nanny said, "Don't you feel good now, knowing you're all done for the day?"

Hmph. It was only a few hours into my morning, and I was "done for the day." No matter what the rest of the day may bring at work or at home, I can put a big check-box in my calendar. She was right. I did feel good. Maybe I'll try to keep up this running thing a while longer.

More fun than a run

Summer is back with a vengeance in New York City, and, as if almost overnight, my head has become foggier and my runs have become slower. Cycling would definitely be le sport du jour these days, but, despite careful observation, I never really did learn how to fix a flat. I'm therefore a bit hesitant to head out in the Park on my own, lest I end up on East 90th with nothing but cycling clips on my feet to get me home in time to feed a crying baby (unfortunately, my day is still divided into 2.5-3 hour increments).

And so my little red Giant sits upon her wall mount, longing to be ridden again some time soon. Perhaps when Ryder hits the six month mark we'll hook him up in the Chariot (are babies supposed to wear helmets in those things?) to see whether he lives up to his namesake's affinity for fast moving bikes. Until then, I'm afraid that I'll have to play it safe and stick to 40-60 minute runs, close to home and with proper shoes on my feet.

But this Memorial Day weekend, the weather has been awfully hot and sticky, and our boy wants to seize the day -- every day -- beginning around 6 am. I'm struggling with fatigue, a pounding headache, and, truthfully, a desire to just drink a lot of beer. A run through soupy, 30-degree weather with only a few hours of sleep under my belt is not nearly as appetizing as the mild buzz earned after sitting peacefully in the shade with a brewsky in hand. And so that's basically what I've done this weekend: wheats, ales, lagers, and, today, some very strong Belgian brews. I know that more runs and less beer probably would have served me better over the long haul, but last summer, I sat salivating while Zdenek drank 10% Belgian ales or casually enjoyed a second bottle of Pilsner. Besides, I think they say that hops is good for your breast milk. Ryder certainly doesn't seem to mind.

Warm fuzzies

Apparently, what goes around, comes around, and that extends to more than just my loops in Central Park.

Last week, I ran past two girls on the west side of the Park. Approaching them from behind, I immediately noticed both the Lulu Lemon logos on their gear (I'm always complaining to Zdenek that we should have bought more of that stock!) and their very, very sculpted legs. While the runner on the right was slightly superior in terms of rippling muscles and obvious athleticism, they both looked pretty darn good to me. As I caught up to them, I asked, "Are you girls runners or cyclists?" "Runners," they replied. I told them that they both had pretty fine legs, with calf definition that would make a cyclist jealous. They were pleasantly surprised by the early morning compliment, and giggled a bit as I passed them and headed on my way.

On Monday morning, after a very lazy Sunday spent battling an oncoming cold and forgoing any run at all, I decided to fit in a quick five miles. The extra day of rest certainly didn't hurt me, but I still felt sub-optimal on little sleep and with lumps in the back of my throat. Nevertheless, I tried to maintain both pace and form as I rounded the bottom of the Park and climbed Cat Hill, because every run I have time for these days has to count for something. Just as I had finished cresting the top, a cyclist rode past me and steered herself a bit closer to my running path. And as she cruised by, the very fit, 50-something year old lady on the bike yelled to me, "Beautiful Runner!"

Beautiful Runner?! Was she talking about me? I looked around, and realized that, in fact, I was the only runner within earshot. I was so surprised that I didn't even have a chance to yell back my thanks for this very unexpected compliment.

I've come a long way since my first days of long-distance running, when I used to bounce so high and pound the pavement so hard that my knees ached, or when I slouched forward, shoulders sloping toward the ground, and looked like I might collapse at any moment. Today, I am a bit stronger, smoother, and upright. I try to pay close attention to my form whenever I can, and Zdenek has lately told me, "You look perfect right now!"

But to be told that I am a "beautiful runner" by a complete stranger is the sweetest compliment I've received in a long time. Despite the bags under my eyes, the disheveled morning hair-do, and the sweat dripping down my forehead, someone thought I looked beautiful. While running. It doesn't get any better than that.

The family that runs together...

Yesterday after dinner, Zdenek and I settled in to watch (and fast forward) through the previously broadcast Boston Marathon. Boston is always one of the year's highlights, and yesterday's race proved to be an especially exciting one. (I was, however, a bit perturbed to see that the conditions were conducive to a blistering fast, record-setting pace, and thus couldn't have been more different from the day I ran Beantown. Maybe someday I'll have a return showing to try my luck again; given the new qualifying standards and procedures, though, I doubt it.)

Watching Ryan Hall give his post-race interview, I was, as always, awestruck by his positive attitude and accomplishments in the sport. And then I began daydreaming about how happy it would make me if Ryder becomes a serious runner (let alone a world-class one). When compared with other sports (e.g. swimming, hockey, baseball, cycling), running is convenient, cheap, and will likely keep you in good shape for the rest of your life. Indeed, I can point to a lot of fat ex-swimmers and ex-hockey players, but very few fat ex-competitive runners. This is due, I think, to the simple fact that running can be maintained without teams, coaches, and fancy facilities: once a runner, always a runner. And while I never want to be that parent, and Ryder will certainly have to find his own passions in life, I hope that I can nudge him in the running direction just a little. He might, after all, stand a chance at being semi-competitive: great endurance runners tend to be short (check), and have strong hearts (hopefully, check).

Happily, we're on our way to setting him on that course. Zdenek was cleared for running last week, and we enjoyed two "family runs" in Central Park over the weekend. It's great to have my husband back at my side, and also nice to have someone share the load when pushing Ryder in the Chariot. I look forward to the day when Ryder can cycle his little bike beside me on my morning run, and then, someday, run beside me (until he leaves me in the dust altogether). And even if he's never world-class, I hope that he, like his mom and dad, is able to find joy and good health in the simple ritual of putting one foot in front of the other.

A head start

I was delighted to read this in the NY Times this morning, again confirming that running and pregnancy go hand-in-hand, and hopefully Ryder will reap the benefits for many years to come.

Timing

The update: Zdenek is still dealing with broken metatarsal bones and has been unable to run, but today he heads to the doctor to (hopefully) get the go-ahead to resume normal physical activity. In the meantime, he's managed to fit in a couple of bike rides, but that's clearly insufficient to keep him both happy and as fit as he'd like. Our cumulative sleep deprivation is starting to wear on both of us, and, though Ryder is obviously the love of our lives, I can admit that it was kind of nice last night when he went to bed at 7 pm, and we enjoyed an "adults only" evening (consisting of leftovers for dinner and the BBC news) before heading to bed. (Of course, even though Ryder slept well, neither of us managed to do the same, as I think we've actually forgotten how to sleep more than a couple of hours at a stretch. I can't believe it, but it's true.)

In other "I can't believe it" news, a funny thing happened a couple of weekends ago when I headed out for an eight mile run in the Park. Zdenek took Ryder out in the stroller to enjoy the sunny weather, and we agreed to meet back at home for lunch in about an hour. I managed to beat them home by about 5 minutes, and when Zdenek came home, he told me that he thought had seen me running in the Park, but wasn't convinced it was me. Why? Because I was too fast. That's right. You read that correctly: Too fast. Apparently, he saw a girl who looked like me, was dressed like me, and ran mostly like me, except that she was much faster than he was accustomed to seeing.

Turns out, it was me, and indeed, I am faster these days. I haven't run over 8.5 miles in four or five months, but I am managing to post my fastest paces ever, even with only bits and pieces of sleep to fuel me. I think it's due to having (a) limited time to fit in the miles, and so every mile must be run quickly, and (b) 10 fewer pounds on my frame. I really feel that, if I began serious training, I might be able to crack 3:20 in a marathon right now. The sad irony is that just as I'm posting good times, I have no time to put them to good use.

Perhaps once our schedules even out a bit more, I'll try for a 10K race sometime soon. I've never raced that distance before and so I wouldn't even know what to expect, but it can't hurt to try something new. And besides, 2011 will need to be the year of running quickly, because parenting is the only endurance event on my calendar this year.

Sunny Saturday

This morning, I was forced to choose between taking Ryder out in the jogging stroller or foregoing a run altogether. Zdenek is working (on a Saturday!) so I am alone all day with no one to watch the boy if I want to go out.

Although Ryder seems to like the jogging stroller just fine (he can't really move an inch when he's in his bunting), I've been trying to get him used to taking naps in his crib rather than being rocked to sleep by the motion of a stroller. Over the past week or so, though, napping seems to have suddenly "clicked" in his little brain -- I simply put him down when he's sleepy and he drifts off to dreamland unassisted (the occasional nuk replacement is required, but that's okay). So now that I feel more confident that he can nap in his crib, I figured I might as well take him for a spin in the Park this morning under the beautiful weekend sunshine. And since I haven't been running in over a week, I was definitely itching to get out there.

I am delighted to report that I ran the full, hilly loop of Central Park in an 8:33 minute/mile pace, pushing an extra ~40 pounds! Two guys who passed me early on shouted, "Awesome job! Do you have room for two more in there?" And later, as I passed a different pair of male runners while climbing Harlem Hill, I heard one say to the other, "Now I don't feel so tough -- being passed by a woman pushing a stroller uphill." I remember saying the same thing to myself when I'd get passed by moms with jogging strollers (sometimes with TWO kids inside).

I am the first to admit that I miss my solo, carefree days of running, and it makes me a little sad and nervous to think that it might be a long time before I have the chance to properly train for another marathon. But these days, I'll take what I can get. And though I'm still not the speediest mom out there, it's nice to know that I can still get in a decent run with my new little buddy.